Samuel Clarke - Writer
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POEMS
By - Sam Clarke
Sitting in the waiting room
My arm in agony
Remembering that fateful boom
'Till someone starts to beckon me.
The doctor looks at my arm
It takes only but a minute
"That bomb did you quite some harm."
The doctor admitted.
"This is quite serious,
The infection is quite raw."
I thought doc was delirious
When he took out a saw.
I screamed as he approached me
And quickly backed away
I prized my arm so dearly
And wanted it to stay.
The doctor grabbed me firmly
And I closed my eyes in fright
My mouth was closed tight grimly
As I stopped trying to fight.
My vision started to fade
The lights seeming to dim
Until I felt the rubber blade
Bend against my skin.
"April Fools!" The doctor said
"I really love this day!"
I leaned against the doctor bed
Not knowing what to say.
"Your arm is fine, the pain will go,
It was all a joke."
I sighed and then said "Oh!"
My pants, I had soaked.
I left with some painkiller
And a cherry lollipop
My heart so much cheerier
Now that my arms death had been stopped.
By- Sam Clarke
Twas the night after Thanksgiving
When all through the house,
Not a Creature was stirring,
Not even a mouse.
Throughout the house, not even a rat,
For everyone was much too full and fat.
Every person was collapsed in bed,
"I'll never eat again," They all said.
Suddenly, from through the walls,
They heard the man who answered the calls.
In came the plumber to make things right,
He had to be quick to reach every house that night.
He spoke not a word but went straight to work,
And plunged the toilet with many a jerk.
And using his fingers to pinch his nose,
He works and then off he goes.
He leaves a jolly big bill
And drives off with a cry that is shrill,
"Now plunger! Now cleaner!
Now pliers! Now files!
On Crow Bar! On Hack Saw!
On Goggles and Glue!
To the next house,
To answer the call!
Now Dash away, Dash away,
Dash Away ALL!"
I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
"Happy Thanksgiving to all, And to all a fat night!"
By Sam Clarke
I'm sitting in the chair.
My heart starting to race
I run my fingers through my hair
As my interview takes place.
Sweat runs down my head,
Thump Thump goes my heart
Then I notice it with dread...
I am nearly about to fart!
Now I can only think about ,
That feeling down below
Starting to force it's way out
I'm almost about to blow!
My ears are straining tight
As I await the dreaded squeek
Thinking of the beans last night
And the inevitable reek.
"Ahem," The boss said
Pulling me out of my thought
I look up my face red
My whole head steaming hot.
I had stopped listening to the Boss
And fear makes me go frozen,
The Big Man looks quite cross.
Then came the growing explosion.
The sounds of sirens rise,
The Chem. Dpt. runs in
The the sound of people's cries
Adds to the growing din.
Then comes the Fire Dpt.
And the ambulences race
To go where they are sent.
And the FBI gets on the case.
The CIA looks for terrorist ties
I become suspect number 1
They then detect me for lies
And I'm told not to try and run.
"Try to run? No Never!"
I tell the man in a suit.
This has been the worst interview
And all because of a toot.